


Ache

by deansnuggles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansnuggles/pseuds/deansnuggles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy, during the day. To keep busy, keep moving, forget. Trials, cases, road trips and motels and monsters and tablets. Once in awhile he slips, more frequently with each passing week. Sees a trenchcoat-clad man who - just for an instant - causes his stomach to flip in excitement. Not him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Mid season eight drabble in Dean's head while Cas isn't answering prayers.

It's easy, during the day. To keep busy, keep moving, forget. Trials, cases, road trips and motels and monsters and tablets. Once in awhile he slips, more frequently with each passing week. Sees a trenchcoat-clad man who - just for an instant - causes his stomach to flip in excitement.  _Not him._ Makes an obscure movie reference, half turns with a smirk on his lips, and the lack of squinted blue eyes at his side kicks him in the gut.  _Not here._ But mostly, it's easy. Sort of.  _Easy-ish._

But at night there are the dreams. The ones he pushes from his mind, with varied success, come morning.  _Blue eyes, strong hands, hips and thighs and "I need you" and "stay with me."_ The ones that happen all too often. He wakes, covered in sweat, with an ache in his belly and a name on his lips. A name he hopes to hell he isn't calling out loud, because this name has a tendency to summon it's owner once in awhile - though not so much lately.  _Where are you, man?_  And wouldn't that be awkward.  _Or awesome. Perfect._ No. Definitely awkward.

 

In the light of day, he blames it on stress. On not getting laid in two years.  _Or three? Or more. Does it count if it's a monster?_ On his subconscious mixing up "missing" with "longing;" "like a brother" with "like a lover;" "need" with " _need_."

 

But when he lies half-awake in the small hours of the morning, hard and heavy and aching inside and out, he knows the truth. This is what's missing. This is what he's tried to fill with booze and pills and hunting and women in every combination for most of his life. This is the hole in his heart called "love" and "family" that Sam can never completely fill. 

 

He'd die for Sammy. 

 

He'd live for Castiel.

 

And in the dark he allows himself that thought, that hope, that dream. Because that's all it is. Midnight fantasies. This isn't a fairy tale and they aren't star-crossed lovers. They are warriors, men, flawed and broken and destined to die before their time. Alone. 

 

It's easy, during the day.  _Until he comes back._  



End file.
